Gomez and Wednesday Addams

Many of you know that our little rescue dogs are named Gomez and Wednesday Addams. Will named them after these two:

Gomez Addams

And Wednesday Addams

And they're a little like them. And they're a little like these two:

Sandy and Danny.

Sandy and Danny may have smelled nicer. Maybe not. After all, the movie was named, "Grease". At least they were well lubed. I heard that Sandy could really blast 'em after eating some chili dogs. I may be mistaken, but, I bet no one had to pull long strands of grass out of their asses, or fabric for that matter. Although, I have a feeling Sandy and Danny were more neurotic.

Anyway, here they are, our little babies:

Wednesday and Gomez Addams. Adorable, no? Don't let that little sundress fool you, she will seriously fuck you up and dismember you if she has to. See that pic of Christina Ricci up there ready to administer high voltage? Wednesday would if she could. And then she'd remove your smoldering hair...what's left of it...by force. And bury your burnt corpse underneath our bed, which we wouldn't appreciate very much. We'd have no place to put stupid neighbors. And for that, we need all the room we can get. The garage is already full of them.

Here's Gomez.

He's getting busy on Betty Boop's boob...ah yeah...Betty like that? Ahhh...yeah....Who's your doggie? Who's your doggie? I thought so, bitch...rah-rah-rah-rah...That Betty is nothing but a pottie trained tramp.

And here he is getting to work on Betty Boop's burger. Poor Frankenstein is all bent over waiting for some bootie action, but Gomez is too preoccupied with Betty's hair pie. He don't want any of Frankie's stank ass.

So, last week Gomez woke me up in the morning by barfing on me...in bed. THEN, later that morning, I took the two little scoundrels to the beach for a run. I know, you're bracing yourself aren't you? I saw what appeared to be a bur on Wednesday's back. So, I grabbed it.

It was rather soft. I don't know why I did what I did, but I did. I sniffed it. Yeah, it wasn't a "bur". It was shit. A small ball of shit was now resting between my thumb, my forefinger and my middle finger. I threw my head back in disgust and started gagging. The kind of gagging that saliva starts prepping the way for puke.

I washed my hand off in the Pacific, which is just SO clean I could drink it. And had I been in a tree, I would've done what the monkey below does.

Oh and if the smell wasn't bad enough? Well, the taste was just awful.